


Sweet, Wonderful Idiot

by MissDoodle



Series: Proxy [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: But he does his best dammit, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Lee is not comfortable around drunk people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 14:31:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13836741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissDoodle/pseuds/MissDoodle
Summary: It's Sakura's birthday. She's drunk. And Rock Lee is very, very concerned.





	Sweet, Wonderful Idiot

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is in a series of one shots I have planned, all of which occur in the same timeline. Currently I'm finishing up my senior year in college, so I don't know how soon the next part will be up. But Spring Break IS around the corner.
> 
> Many thanks to my wonderful Beta and good friend CaptainBrower. I wouldn't get half as much done without her encouragement and support. 
> 
> Please enjoy :)

“Get dressed. I’m taking you out, and you’re not going home until you are thoroughly wasted.” 

Twenty minutes later they were at the bar. Ino pushed open the door to the private room and announced that “The Birthday Bitch” had arrived. She’d invited everyone. Well, almost everyone. Whether or not Sasuke had received his invitation was anyone’s guess--he was notoriously difficult to get a hold of these days--but Ino must have sent one if the empty place setting beside Sakura’s was anything to go by. Ino made no comment on the matter, though there had been a split second when, as she was dragging Sakura to the head of the table, her eyes flicked to the empty chair and her smile wavered. 

For her part, Sakura decided Sasuke had simply never received his invitation. It got lost, or...who knows. But it was fine. He was busy. He had important things to do. 

It was a nice evening nonetheless. Nice in the sense that everyone was happily buzzed by the first hour mark. Not Lee though, despite several attempts by Naruto to change that fact.

As a rule, Lee never drank. Sakura felt safe in assuming it was his painfully formal bearing that kept him sober, but TenTen had mumbled something after her third or fourth cocktail about him being an astonishing lightweight. This could easily have meant any number of things, but witness testimonies had suggested you didn’t want to find out which one through hands on experience. 

So Lee was dead sober by the time everyone stumbled out of the bar to head home. Shino had nursed his fair share of beer, but if any of it went to his head, he did a heroic job of not letting it show. Hinata, the only other sober party that night, escorted Naruto home, whereas Ino had already absconded with Sai a little earlier in the evening. Everyone else drifted off on their own once they’d sobered up enough to put one foot before the other. Kiba might have been a little worse for ware tough. He’d ridden off on Akamaru backwards. 

That left just the two of them--Lee and Sakura. Sakura had been intent on walking herself home. Afterall she she was a “grown ass woman” thank you very much. Then she’d stumbled in her newly gifted heels—thank you, Ino—and pitched headfirst into a garbage can, and Lee was leading her by the shoulders a few moments later. 

When they reached the apartment, Sakura had spent a full minute struggling with her keys before Lee stepped in to help. She staggered inside and threw herself down on the couch, then looked up and noticed Lee still waiting awkwardly in the doorway, probably debating whether or not it’d be wise to leave her to her own devices while nose-deep in a drunken stupor. Sakura made a noise halfway between a slur a groan. She’d meant to ask him why he was just standing there like a kicked dog, but the result had been something unintelligible, and that had apparently been evidence enough of her need for supervision. 

“Here,” Lee crouched down next to her and offered his hand, “You should probably try to sit up.” 

Sakura grumbled and curled up on her side, facing away from him. She heard a faint sigh. 

“Sakura, please. You need to stay awake until your head has cleared a bit more. Let me make you some tea. Or, do you need something to eat?” 

Food. Yes. Food sounded good. 

Sakura rolled over so that she was facing him again and rested her chin one one arm, the other dangling limp over the side of the couch. “Mmmmkay.”

“Alright.” Lee smiled a little, “But I need you to sit up first. Can you do that?”

Sakura mumbled in the affirmative, then pulled herself up to rest against the back of the couch. Lee touched her on the shoulder and thanked her, then disappeared into the kitchen. Sakura wandered in after him not long after and leaned against the wall without saying a word, watching with mild fascination as this Jounin in full battle attire—because yes, he’d worn that damn suit to the bar— enacted a tableau of domesticity.

He seemed pretty comfortable in the kitchen; he’d even donned one of her aprons. Given a second though, Sakura supposed it shouldn’t be a surprise considering how long he’d been living on his own. Lee never went into the details about his family, but from what she’d gleaned over the years, Sakura guessed they were out of the picture, and had been for a very long time. 

He’d grown up in the orphanage, which wasn’t uncommon for someone born in a Hidden Village. Orphans were the one thing Konoha always had in abundance, though some generations saw greater numbers than others. Lee would have been an infant around the time the Nine Tails attacked their village. The aftermath had seen a significant rise in the orphan population, and it was not just shinobi children either. A decent chunk of the citizenry had lost their lives that night, and the result had been a disproportionate quantity of children with no shinobi background straining the precious resources needed to keep them clothed and fed. Sakura had always wondered if Lee fell into this category, given his inability for even the most basic shinobi magic. 

Lee was halfway through making an omelette before he noticed her watching him. He smiled at her, then suggested she take a seat at the table. “Just a few more minutes”, he said, then turned back to the stove. 

Sakura watched him in silence a little while longer before she felt the notion to move in a bit closer. She closed the distance between them, then slid her arms around him, head dipped forward and resting against one shoulder. A second later he’d gone still as stone, the breath catching in his throat. 

“S-sakura? Is everything—“

She shushed him loudly, arms tightening around his middle. 

“Shh...shush. Just...just hush. Just for a minute.” Sakura closed her eyes and fell silent. Lee was silent, too, thought she could hear his heartbeat roaring even through the thick material of his vest. 

“You’re so good…” she mumbled, squeezing a little tighter, “Why are you so good?” 

Lee uttered a few confused syllables that tried and failed to be a coherent sentence. She could clearly envision the sort of face he must have made then— lips at full pout; eyes inhumanly wide. The thought of it made her giggle, and this seemed to snap Lee out of his paralysis. 

“Water!” He blurted, breaking away from her, “You should drink some water!” 

Lee fumbled through the cabinets until he’d found a clean glass, filled it, and thrust it into her hands. Sakura took a messy gulp, then paused, lowered the glass, and blinked. 

How long had his sleeve been on fire? 

She gestured to his arm and asked, “Do you not feel that?”

Apparently he hadn’t. Either his brain was still reeling from that short circuit a moment ago, or his tolerance for pain was such that being partially immolated wasn’t worthy of his attention. 

It had his attention now though. Lee yelped and started flailing his arm through the air. Sakura tried to empty her glass on the fire but only managed to splash him in the face. 

Ok, plan B then. 

Sakura dove for the sink and its extendable faucet, then turned the full force of it on Lee and didn’t relent until he was shouting for her to stop. 

“Thank you, Sakura. That was certainly a close one.” Lee chuckled weakly, dabbing his face with the apron. 

The smell of burning eggs drew his attention back to the stove. He flicked off the burner and hurried to find a plate before the omelette was beyond saving. 

“It is a little overdone,” Lee said, placing it down on the table, “but it should still be edible. My apologies.”

“Meh.” Sakura waved a hand at him and sat down. Food was food. She was too drunk and hungry to care beyond that. 

Lee took off the apron, folded it, and laid it next to the sink to dry. Then he joined Sakura at the table. He’d brought her a pair of chopsticks, but she was already eating with her hands. The eggs were indeed overcooked, even a little burnt, but it was still better than anything Sasuke—

Sakura let the omelette fall back onto her plate. 

She’d made a concerted effort not to think about Sasuke that night. Chiefly, about the fact that he wasn’t there. Not that she’d expected otherwise. He had important things to do. Far more important than his girlfriend's birthday. He didn’t have the time. He was busy, and that was fine, because he still loved her and that was what mattered. 

It was fine. This was fine. He would come back when he was able. 

He would come back.

“Sakura! Sakura is everything alright?”

Lee’s panic brought her back to reality. He was looking at her from across the table with wide eyed concern. 

“What? I’m—” Sakura felt something roll down her cheek. She raised a hand to her face and found that it was wet. Was she crying? When had that happened? 

“Is it the food?” Lee had gotten up and was hovering beside her now, hands raised in a pacifying gesture. “Is it really that bad? I can make another!”

“No, no, no!” Sakura smudged the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. “It’s not—it’s nothing! I’m fine!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m just...so drunk is all. It’s drunk crying. It’s stupid.” 

Lee frowned down at her, one hand idly scrubbing the back of his head. “Alright,” he didn’t sound all that convinced, “But, please let me make you some tea. I promise not to set myself on on fire this time!” He offered her a thumbs up and one of those big, dumb grins of his. 

Sakura half winced, half smiled. Then she sniffled and wiped her face on her sleeve. “Okay.”

Lee turned back to the stove to put the kettle on, and that’s when Sakura finally noticed the patch of raw pink on his arm where his sleeve had been burned through. 

Sakura pushed herself out of her chair. “You’re hurt.”

Lee looked over his shoulder at her, then down at his burn. “Oh. Do not worry, Sakura. I barely feel—”

Sakura was already dragging him back to the table. Her instincts as a medical ninja had taken over now. Someone was hurt, and inebriated or not, she was going to do something about it. 

“Sakura, you really do not have to—”

Sakura interrupted him again, this time by putting a finger to his lips. 

“No. Shush. You sit.” 

Sakura ignored the sudden rush of color on Lee’s face and pointed to the nearest chair. He obeyed in silence and she hunched over him, holding out his arm to inspect the damage. It was only a topical burn, and not a terribly bad one, all things considered. She vaguely remembered one time or other when Gai Sensei had vehemently defended his choice of tactical wear against a detractor—probably Kakashi—by proclaiming its many features, one of which had been that it was fireproof. Well, not that fireproof, it turned out. But the material didn’t burn as easily as it could have. Had he been wearing anything else, Lee’s whole arm might have gone up in flames. 

It took a bit longer to gather her chakra than usual. Sakura wasn’t normally in the habit of performing advanced ninjutsu after getting sloshed, though after this she might have to ask Lady Tsunade what her secret was. Tsunade’s boozehoundery was as legendary as her skills in medicine. Sakura loved that woman, but she was the walking definition of functional alcoholic. Surely she’d have some experience with situations like these. 

At last the green aura flickered to life in her palm. Sakura hovered it over the wound, just barely touching the frayed and blackened edges of Lee’s sleeve. He was watching her with rapt attention, a glint of green reflected in his eyes. He’d developed a slight fascination with medical ninjutsu after his surgery, and although he’d never have the skills to practice it himself, he seemed to enjoy watching others carry out their work. Lee had made a career of punishing his own body, more so than any other shinobi. Not that he had much choice. Without ninjutsu or genjutsu, the only real powers at his disposal were double-edged by nature. He could achieve amazing things with the Lotus, but at a price. All things considered, she imagined there might be a shade of envy in that fascination. 

“Sakura?”

She didn’t hear him the first time he said it, she’d been too distracted by that bead of water tracing along the curve of his jaw, and then by the slight hitch of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. Only when Lee pulled his arm away did she notice she’d been staring. Her eyes snapped up to his face. He was giving her that worried grimace again. 

“Are you feeling alright, Sakura?” 

She couldn’t say exactly why she’d done it, but it might have been the way his lips parted just the slightest bit, his head tilted as big, bright eyes searched her own for signs of sobriety. Something about that face just needed to be kissed. 

The face he’d made afterward though, was not the kind she’d been expecting. Lee was turning considerably red as he jerked backward, eyes blank, and a hand clapped firmly over his lips. There was silence. Then the agonizing slow groan of chair legs against the tile as Lee slowly stood up. 

“I should probably go.” He said, eyes fixed on the floor. 

Sakura reached out for him. “Wha? No. I didn’t fix you yet.” 

“It is fine.” He was still avoiding eye contact as he came around the table and gingerly helped her to her feet. “I have to go, and you have to get some rest, Sakura. Sleep this off.” 

He guided her to her room and then nudged her toward the bed. Sakura dragged her feet across the floor and let herself pitch forward onto the mattress with the grace of a fallen tree. Rolling onto her side, she pulled her knees up to her chest, then looked up to see that Lee was now gone. Sakura grumbled and turned onto her otherside, away from the blinding yellow light of the hallway. She pulled her pillow over her head, closed her eyes, and tried to sleep. 

Soft footsteps caught her attention. Lee was back. She heard him place something onto the nightstand beside her bed and then mutter a good night. A few seconds later, the door closed with a soft click. 

\--

Sakura had forgotten everything by the next morning, though the throbbing headache had her painfully aware she’d been drunk the night before. She sat up in her bed, palms smudging the crust away from her eyes. Once she could see straight, she instinctively reached for the clock on her nightstand to check the time, but her hand bumped into something else first. It was a tall glass of water. 

Well, thank fucking god. 

She emptied the glass in seconds, then slammed it down on the nightstand again. It took every bit of willpower she possessed not to sink back onto the sheets afterward. She’d glanced at the clock and it was already getting late. 

Sakura dragged herself to the bathroom and saw a vision of hideousness in the mirror. She was wearing the same outfit as she had last night, but it didn’t look as flattering on her now that it was wrinkled and crooked and spackled with wine stains. Her hair was a frazzled mess; strands of it were stuck to the corner of her mouth where she’d apparently drooled on herself. Her eyes were glassy and bloodshot. Black stains that had once been eyeliner had dried in blotchy streaks down her face. 

Beautiful. 

After a long—long—shower, she slipped on a bathrobe and wandered into the kitchen for some much needed caffeine. There, she noticed something waiting for her on the kitchen table. It was in a white paper bag with her name on it. Inside was a little jar of tea leaves and a note in crisp, neat handwriting:

“For the hangover.”

She’d forgotten most of the night prior up until that point. Now it was all flooding back. Sakura sank into the chair beside the table, nursing her temples. 

Goddamnit, Lee. 

She knew he’d meant well, and yet part of her wanted to strangle him for this, because he was an idiot. A sweet, wonderful idiot.


End file.
